


The Natural Number

by wishwellingtons



Category: Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Lewis (TV)
Genre: 2008, 50 Sentences, Child Abduction, Child Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, Short, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2681207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishwellingtons/pseuds/wishwellingtons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifty miniature fics, often one-sentence, belonging to the lives of Robert Lewis and James Hathaway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Natural Number

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first version of this back in 2008, inspired by another fifty-sentence fic. I'm not sure now where I got the prompts. The original title (based on the prompts) was "epsilon". I struggled to know what to call this, and ended up googling "50". Wikipedia informs me that "fifty is the natural number following 49 and preceding 51" which I thought was all I deserved, really, and hence the title. 
> 
> These fics don't all fit in the same universe, obviously, but I hope you enjoy them, and thank you very much for reading. 
> 
> Some have been heavily re-written (among them "Bother" and "Last", and about five others).

Air

The air lifts Hathaway's hair like so much invisible wind through so much invisible barley, and as Lewis sneezes into the long grass at the start of this exceptionally unglamorous stakeout, he can't help but feel that their lives been have written into a parody in which only Hathaway knows they're participants.

 

Cool

The back of the windowsill is efficiently, chillily clean in these days of MRSA and superbugs; Hathaway's not grateful, though, and the only way he'll ever be grateful again is if Lewis comes through this.

 

Young

You know about the grandchildren, but it's still a shock to see Robbie scoop up a small translation of himself, laugh along a child's tousled head ( _you're still a young man, sir_ , you said earlier, but you were late and he mistook your hesitation for something else).

 

Last

You tell him, _I’m here love_ and the sky slants westward into the last falling light: it’s clear that today the JR won’t beat their average, but he smiles at you nonetheless, as if time is on your side.

 

Wrong

He could step into a church again these days, see if anything's changed, but the lighting wouldn't be right and the students piss him off and anyway, where it mattered there would be no new answers to give.

 

Gentle

Hathaway knows that Lewis wouldn't be revolted; Hathaway knows that Lewis would be _sorry_ and that's not what he wants to hear.

 

One

One is one and all alone, Lewis thinks morosely, but then the lily-white boy lopes into the office, complaining about his green-gills hangover and carrying a _motorbike helmet_ _(_ "like a bloody wanker"); and amidst the shouting that follows, Lewis is one more glad to be part of a pair (he honestly is).

 

Thousand

A fistful of fivers and purple twenties says he’s won on the horses, or it might be the pools: his inspector looks endearingly inane in his happiness until Hathaway realises it means a holiday, and he wonders when he became so pathetic that he grudges Robbie even a weekend away.

 

King

Some bits of the Book are much more boring than others, and they don't hold his attention when evening's slipping into dark beside a roaring fire (he could try and pray, but somewhere along the line James Hathaway got more interested in making a myth of his own).

 

Learn

Whenever Hathaway excels at something, Lewis feels a knot tighten in his heart; as the months go by, it's hard to remind himself that once he knew better.

 

Blur

It's blasting CDs on Saturday afternoon, sending up Peterson through a thick fug of smoke in Hathaway's room; they've got through three bottles of red wine and it's funnier and funnier when a panting Lewis can't stand up.

 

Wait

Hathaway's got hollowed eyes and a bruised cheek; he looks young and new when he sleeps, and Lewis is glad to find him there, even if his tea's spilling onto the hospital blanket, and even if he's dribbling very slightly onto Lewis's pillow.

 

Change

Innocent doesn't know what's up, but it's like sharing an office with an angry bear and an ambulant corpse; and even if they do both have sore heads she'd still quite like to bang them together.

 

Command

As a child, Hathaway secretly liked stories of knights-at-arms, and his favourite hymns had heroes and spurs: now he gazes up at blue eyes and a cliff's-edge face and realises he's starting to invest that profile with the same sort of meaning.

 

Hold

"That's all love is, though, isn't it - one person says _I want_ and the other says _I know_ ," says Hathaway suddenly, except he's been waiting for months, and when Robbie (scarlet) starts his no-idea-under-a-lot-of-pressure-very-sorry-ma'am speech behind Hathaway's departing back, _everyone_ knows it's a lie.

 

Need

_It's all right, it's all right_ , and he'll murmur the words as many times as Hathaway needs, unable to mark the moment when the body in his arms goes from shivering to heat, and unable to tell why it's the next five words ( _there's nothing wrong with you_ ) that cause Hathaway to break.

 

Vision

Pentecost is a mirage of summer, with Hathaway asleep beneath branches as silver and splendid as himself, light shattering the sky with splintering blindness, and branches that trip unfocused darkness through the photograph; _your young men shall see visions_ , remembers Robbie, and then that he, too, is no longer young.

 

Attention

Some letters alert you to their contents with brown paper and rustling plastic windows; others demand your notice with angry red stamps and capslock (most of which are technically fraud); James, Robbie muses, could have his attention forever, if he’d only send him a bloody _postcard_.

Soul

There's a white-lipped copper standing over Lewis's bed when he wakes again, and a tiny mass card with a picture of bluebells that Hathaway later admits came from his mum: Lewis doesn't know what's been said for him in his absence, but he reaches up from the bed and tugs Hathaway's cold hand into his, and the warmth of flesh and fingertips is like the balm of Gilead for Hathaway's soul.

 

Picture

Lewis doesn't try to explain the reasoning behind such an extravagant gift but when James has (easily) torn off all his inspector's careful wrapping, genuine delight suffuses his face. But in that instant, Lewis pictures Mark on his ninth birthday, unwrapping his bike, and the resemblance sickens him whenever he sees the painting on James's wall.

 

Fool

Lewis knows there's no hope of it, but he can't stop wanting him.

 

Mad

The only man Lewis has ever kissed was dead and this does nothing to stop him questioning his sanity.

 

Child

It's his first case of this kind and usually new officers break; Hathaway kneels down in his new suit, covering the pale little body before SOCO can call him back (and later, with the family, Lewis sees the priest he might have been).

 

Now

It's like the crack of a starting pistol: they shoot off across the field in mad pursuit of their target, ties and jackets flapping - it's mad and Hathaway bloody _loves_ it.

 

Shadow

It's not like James to have nightmares, not nightmares he can't explain.

 

Goodbye

"I kept thinking it'd be like when he -" Hathaway begins, still in hospital pyjamas himself, and Lewis changes the subject because the memory's more clear than comfortable and that's not something he wants to admit.

 

Hide

Lewis knows Hathaway's seeing someone, but doesn't understand why he feels he has to hide it; Lewis has always hoped James would find someone his own age (he's rehearsed this ten times but not yet found the courage to say it).

 

Fortune

Morse's car costs a fortune to garage and maintain (the old sod never thought of that) but when Hathaway's eyes light up like a kid's on seeing it, Lewis can't help but feel (he slides across the seats, flicks the switches, wants to drive everywhere at once, sir, this is _awesome_ ) that the car is worth its weight in gold.

 

Safe

If Hathaway's still alive, Lewis will save him; if Zoe Kenneth has hurt him, then Lewis will kill her, and God can scatter his mercy as he likes because it isn't needed here.

 

Ghost

Morse takes to turning up with a pint in his hand every time Lewis falls asleep, and every time he does it, Morse smirks.

 

Book

Morse had known better than to leave Lewis many books; Lewis wishes he'd got more, though, because Hathaway can read them (lithe and long, stretched out along his sofa) for hours.

 

Eye

It's all up to the beholder, of course, but when the women call his Sergeant "dishy", Lewis wonders whether the facetious, lanky beanpole has a well-behaved, attractive twin; by the time he realizes, it's _much_ too late to argue.

 

Never

Hathaway's bravado has carried him right up to this minute, but now he's sitting with his shirt in his lap on the edge of Lewis's bed, and if the sidelong glance of those eyes isn't fearful, Lewis still knows exactly what he's going to say next.

 

Sing

Hathaway spends the entire service looking accusing, and - as Lewis tells him later - more than a little bug-eyed; in fact, he's so offended that he doesn't even pause to light up outside before demanding to know why Lewis didn't say he could sing, and sing _like that_.

 

Sudden

Robbie acknowledges the justice of Laura’s shin-kick: James deserves the new ring he’s now twisting so uneasily, and a right to the handsome lad bringing champagne from the bar. He does, reluctantly, wish the caution unsaid.

 

Stop

Lewis is drunk on the knowledge he's being the brave one; it's heady and satisfying and Jim kisses back like a teenager and maybe it's the red wine but probably it's love and either way he's unprepared for the sharp shove away and the sudden hand on his chest.

 

Time

Hathaway has patience for chess or cooking but none for taxis, and there's a suave swathe of arrogance that cuts through his walk when he's got somewhere to go - or something to run away from.

 

Wash

"You're a bloody idiot," Lewis tells him, but he's still prepared to half-sling, half-hurl him into the warmth of the van, wrap his morose and undeserving sergeant in a blanket and later - in sole recognition of this completely stupid act of heroism - wash the blood away from Hathaway's face and hands, and pretend his own aren't shaking with relief.

 

Torn

James just lets him get on with it, unmoved by the visible anguish Lewis fights out his miserable moment of indecision on the ballroom floor; when he turns and takes that smaller, female hand, Hathaway just sneers, and heads back to the bar.

 

History

Something buried, something borrowed; the sun is coming up as they walk into town, and the old buildings spring up like trees with new roots; if Lewis can't relinquish the past, he's happy with the present, and by his side, Hathaway's whistling - so he must be happy too.

 

Power

Hathaway argues a lot, complains a lot, lopes behind and keeps up facetious jokes a lot, but when the real moments of responsibility come, it's Hathaway who defers, who trusts Lewis with decisions as he would his body's last breath (Hathaway wonders when he'll realise).

 

Bother

“It was only an _anniversary_ , James,” Lewis rants from the driving seat, and James does pause the staunching (if not technically the _gushing_ ) of his blood to reiterate _again_ that that was why he’d decided _not_ to call.

 

God

Hathaway has a monopoly on religious angst but a monologue gets boring: then Robbie's daughter rings her dad in sobbing terror, and for the first time in years, Hathaway wants the answers for someone other than himself.

 

Wall

Teeth and tongues and a fistful of Lewis's shirt send them crashing down there, but Jim is still laughing, still kissing stilted kisses in the brickdust, and Robert Lewis wonders what sort of miracle it is that he could put that look into eyes like Hathaway's.

 

Naked

When they've been going a couple of months, Hathaway will learn to let his body do the talking, but right now, he's silent as Robbie manoeuvres grumbling elbows and knees further and further down the bed, progressively descending until James has forgotten to breathe (I _can't believe I did that_ , Lewis marvels later, and James smirks and reminds him, _you volunteered_ ).

 

Drive

There's an average age for backseat fumblings and for Lewis it was long ago; but Hathaway directs him down at sunset down a blackberry-rich lane, and amidst the scuffling and secrecy and the semi-sacred hush that falls afterwards (until Lewis complains that his sergeant weighs a ton), it never occurs to either of them that this is the last time.

 

Harm

Lewis starts bellowing like a bull in the aftermath but for now Hathaway can only mumble his defiance as the pain in his shoulder sings him to sleep, sends him falling gracefully back over the stile past dewy grass into the flood-cold baptism of a stream: when he wakes up on hard ground, the look of the drenched man dripping water all over his sergeant tells Hathaway he's about to face a reckoning of a very different kind.

 

Precious

The sunlit room is too crowded, and they couldn't say anything in front of the grandchildren, anyway, but when Lewis sees Hathaway give up his chair to Mark's wife, he wishes there was some way left to tell his sergeant that the past five years have been beyond any price.

 

Hunger

Lewis never quite goes back to not seeing when Hathaway sucks a pen in meetings, and this is a knowledge which his sergeant shamelessly abuses; still, it's a shock to both of them when at lunch Lewis hauls him into the office and locks the door (a shock, but not exactly a deterrent).

 

Believe

New and filigree, fresh and promising, Hathaway's head corn-yellow on the pillow; the morning has come and the weather's fine and it's going to be one more perfect day for the two of them, together in the city of Oxford.


End file.
